A Friendly Face
by EclecticTrekker
Summary: SheppardTeyla. Tag to episodes “The Gift” to “The Siege Pt. 3”. Teyla’s still having nightmares after the Wraith attack has come and gone, but fear and embarrassment keep it a secret…until someone comes along that isn’t going to go without an answer.


"**A Friendly Face"**

**Show: **Stargate Atlantis

**Genre: **General

**Pairing: **Sheppard/Teyla

**Summary: **Sheyla. Tag to episodes from "The Gift" to "The Siege Pt. 3". Teyla's still having nightmares even after the Wraith attack has come and gone, but fear and embarrassment keep it a secret…until someone comes along that isn't going to go without an answer.

**Disclaimer: **Atlantis and the direction in which it's heading is completely out of my hands, but I like to pretend I own the characters just once in a while.

**Author's Note**: Hope this works for you guys, and I haven't seen these episodes in a while, so there are bound to be discrepancies (hopefully not too many). I really appreciated those of you who left reviews for "Crossing the Line"; I'm really liking the whole "missing scene" thing (especially the angsty, hurt/comfort stuff)– they're short, sweet, and fun to write. Thanks in advance for giving this (and me!) a shot, and please drop me a review! And geez, am I the only one who is THIS excited for "Conversion"! Sheyla shippiness like we haven't seen since "The Gift", people, that's my optimistic prediction.

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Teyla sat up in bed with a frightened yelp, her arms instinctively crossing over her chest to protect herself from the Wraith that was standing beside her. Of course, her attacker wasn't there…he never had been, just as none of the others from the past weeks had ever been there. Still, her eyes immediately began to flit nervously around her quarters, rapidly checking that all of the darkest corners were empty and safe. She could feel her breath coming in hitched, rabbity gasps, and her fingers clenched at the bed sheets in a compulsive manner.

Finally convinced that she was awake, safe, and in no danger from an immediate Wraith attack, Teyla forced herself to take slow and steady breaths but found concentrating on that simple action did little to calm herself from the vivid images of the nightmare. Her body felt as though it had too much blood in it, as though her heart was pumping too quickly and furiously to handle all of it, as though she would implode at any moment without warning.

She wasn't used to feeling so vulnerable and afraid, and the unfamiliarity of it was what frightened her the most. Suddenly she stood and crossed to the sink, where she rubbed cold water into her eyes with shaking hands. Teyla couldn't help feeling weak, pathetic, and inexcusably emotional – it was a _dream_, and she desperately needed to get a hold of herself. The best thing, she reasoned, would be to go back to bed, confront that which she was most afraid of and refuse to let it win. Giving a decisive, firm nod of her head with strength she didn't entirely feel, she turned back to her mussed bed, and found she couldn't force herself to take another step toward it.

The blanket was innocently rumpled at the foot of the bed, and her pillow lay quietly on the floor where she had thrown it whilst sleeping. Despite her logical, repetitive thoughts (_'It's just a dream, it's just a dream, it's just a dream')_, her body refused to listen and remained stationary and frozen like an animal caught in some sort of trap. She suddenly made for the door, not even sure that she knew where she was going, only that she needed to get away from that room.

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Colonel John Sheppard made his way through the relatively silent, darkened corridors of Atlantis. He had been awake for thirty straight hours, helping to finish up the situation with the Wraith with most of the other senior staff, and sleep should have come easily for him. Unfortunately, the God of Insomnia had decided to pay him a little visit that evening and rest had eluded him for hours. He then decided to head for the mess hall, maybe grab a cup of tea and some of the chocolate ice cream that was stocked in the deep-freeze. That usually cured him, but once he had dished out a healthy helping (and topped it off with chocolate sauce), he found that his appetite had also vanished along with his exhaustion. He sat staring at the slowly melting puddle of muddy ice cream. He knew exactly what was bothering him, but he didn't even want to think about it – the guilt and anxiety that he felt over Ford's transformation and subsequent disappearance was painful. Anyone else would have told him that it wasn't his fault, but he couldn't help feeling that there was something he could have done or said that would have changed what happened. His mind flashed back to the look on Ford's face, contorted with pain and anger, horribly destroyed by the Wraith enzyme coursing through him – Sheppard pushed away the bowl of congealed ice cream and stood, walking to the hall with rapid steps.

The walkways were dark and quiet at this time of night. A skeleton crew was on staff tonight as everyone got some much-needed rest and recuperation time before the intensive reconstruction of Atlantis began. After the Wraith attack, many sections of the station were left in shambles, occasional bodies of fallen human and Wraith soldiers left where massive fire-fights were held. Empty ammunition cartridges littered the floor, and several explosions had torn apart huge sections of bulkhead. Sheets of twisted metal and scraps of machinery were interspersed among the bloodstains on the floors. Whole corridors of Atlantis were disaster zones, and cleaning up those areas had already begun. Sheppard had helped to lead the last duty shift, and the process had been long, arduous, and morbid. Some areas, like the Mess Hall and the crew quarters had avoided any sort of destruction while others would take weeks to put back together.

He headed out toward the veranda, which he knew was clean and in good shape. Feeling the cool night breeze from the ocean whisper down the hallway, he decided that getting some fresh air would do him good. It would also give him some time to think, time which he might not have very much of in the coming busy days. Sheppard caught a glimpse of several stars shining brightly up ahead, casting a pale, ghostly glow over the darkened city. He also saw something that looked utterly out of place with the rest of the scene before him.

Teyla was already on the balcony. He stopped for a moment to take in what he saw. The Teyla that he had come to know was proud, defiant, and strong, always erect and graceful in her movements. Her shoulders were usually squared, her chin held at an aristocratic angle, and her head unbowed. Sheppard was completely surprised to see a very different Teyla on the balcony. She was sitting on the floor, legs dangling off the edge of the precipice. Her arms were folded on the railing, her head cradled comfortably on top. The slump in her shoulders and the vaguely defeated and tired aura she had about her made him pause. He understood her well enough to know that she was a deeply private person – she had been angry enough with him when he had innocently mentioned her sleeplessness to Dr. Heightmeyer. Though he desperately wanted to know what was wrong, he wasn't sure if he was prepared to punch through her wall of defensiveness and ambiguous answers.

Sheppard was about to tiptoe out and leave her to her own devices when he heard her give a deep, shuddery sigh. His mind was suddenly made up – he couldn't leave her like that, not without at least trying to talk to her. Slowly, he made his way toward the edge of the balcony where she was sitting. He stood looking down at her for a moment, shocked that she hadn't noticed him approach.

"Couldn't sleep either?" he asked, gently. He saw her jump, her head spinning to meet his gaze. Sheppard noticed that she didn't get up, but he saw her straighten her posture and put back her shoulders in a manner that dared him to suggest anything was out of the ordinary.

"I do not require sleep at this point…I decided to use this time to think about recent events," she returned smoothly, as bold-faced a lie as he'd ever seen. She returned his steady gaze defiantly. "Couldn't you sleep?"

"Nope. Do you mind if I join you?" She shook her head and returned to staring out at the ocean. Sheppard plopped down beside her with a sigh, scooting up to the edge and resting his own arms on the railing, their elbows touching in a connection he found oddly comforting. He glanced over at Teyla whose eyes seemed glazed and unfocused, the wind gently blowing strands of her hair around her face. One of her legs swung carelessly at the knee in a child-like manner that both fascinated and frightened him – she was definitely not herself.

Sheppard was finally about to ask her what was bothering her so much, when he heard her voice, unusually quiet and weak. "It wasn't your fault."

"What?"

Finally she turned to meet his gaze. "Lieutenant Ford. It wasn't your fault what happened to Aiden."

He cleared his throat uncomfortably, not sure what to say to that perceptive remark. "It's just…I feel like I should have done more. He looked up to me, and I let him down. It was just so pointless, the way he…it wasn't fair."

She nodded morosely in a way that did little to comfort him. "Nothing is fair about the Wraith."

"Yeah, I guess that's true." To his disappointment, she turned her gaze back to the ocean, apparently finished with their conversation. But Sheppard wasn't going to let her go that easily. "Now it's your turn."

Her eyes slid to his, a faintly puzzled expression on her face. "I don't understand."

"Come on, Teyla," he said in a voice that was both firm and gentle. "I know that something's bothering you and that you probably don't want to talk about it…but I promise I won't report you to Heightmeyer this time unless you want me to."

She gave him a weak half-smile. "I am fine. It is nothing that you can help with."

Sheppard suddenly had a guess. "Is it Bates? Has he been bugging you again? I've already told him off about leaving you alone, and if he's starting up again –"

Teyla immediately bristled at Bates' name. "It is _not_ Lieutenant Bates. And I do _not_ need you protecting me from him. I can take care of myself without your concern."

"I know you can…believe me, I saw you break that guy's nose, but he shouldn't be allowed to make accusations against you. He's a bastard, and everyone knows it."

With a careful, conservative nod Teyla again turned away from him toward the ocean. Sheppard watched the starlight make shadows on the curve of her cheek when he suddenly jolted. "Are you having nightmares again?"

His question had a violent, instantaneous affect on Teyla. Her face whipped around to meet his stare. She immediately looked away, but he had caught the frightened, trapped expression in her eyes. Teyla suddenly began to clamber to her feet, trying to rapidly put some physical distance between herself and Sheppard. "It is late. I need to go –"

He shot out a hand and gently grabbed her shoulder. "The nightmares are back aren't they? When did this start?" She made to push his hand away, but he instead took her hand, forcing her to keep from standing. "Teyla, you know you can tell me anything. If they're getting worse, you should really talk to someone. We have no idea what will happen to you if you keep having a lot of contact with the Wraith."

"Why? Why should I tell you anything? So you can go running off to Dr. Heightmeyer again?" she asked angrily. "The last time I confided in you, you betrayed that trust."

"Because I was concerned for you," he explained worriedly. The emotion and desperation in her voice was out of character, and he knew he'd only get one shot at this. "I know that you're angry at me for that, but just let me explain. If you don't want to stick around after that, that's fine, but let me talk to you first." He waited with baited breath, hoping against hope that she would sit down again.

She sat down.

She wasn't doing him any favors by actually looking at him. She sat with her knees clasped to her chest, staring out at the ocean in order to avoid making eye contact. Breathing a silent sigh of relief, Sheppard cast his own gaze out to the rolling waves and collected his thoughts. "Look, I know that I didn't ask your permission before I talked to Heightmeyer. But after seeing you so upset…it really scared me. You're always so focused and calm and to see you like that…I felt like I was going to lose my best friend if I didn't do something. I don't even want to pretend like I know what you're going through, but I know that I wouldn't be able to do it in your shoes without some help. I know you, Teyla. And as much as you want to pretend like you're okay, I know that you're hurt and you're scared, and I don't know if anyone can make that go away. But I'm willing to try.

"I promise you don't have to see Dr. Beckett if you don't want to. I think that it'd be a good idea, but I don't want to force you into anything. Just talk to me, even if it's to convince me that you're okay. I know it's hard to accept help from people when you're scared or lonely or embarrassed – believe me, I've been there – but there are people here who care about you. They don't want to see you hurt. We don't want you to be alone…I don't want to lose you," he finished quietly, in a pleading voice that he'd never heard himself use before, one that he had no idea he possessed.

There was a moment of silence before Sheppard looked back over to Teyla. She seemed frozen in the same position, hands tightly clenched around her knees, her eyes locked on the distant horizon. He edged closer to her and gently laid a hand on her shoulder. Sheppard saw her blink and was startled and heartbroken to see tears suddenly streak down her cheeks. She flicked her eyes toward him, and he saw they were bright and glassy with unshed tears.

"I cannot escape them," she whispered, lip quivering. "They won't let me go." He watched her crumple into eerily silent sobs, and he moved closer to her small, clenched form. Putting a careful arm around her shoulder, Sheppard drew her into a gentle embrace. He could feel her body hiccup with her crying, and he silently stroked her hair as he rested a cheek on the top of her head. They stayed like that for what seemed to be eternity; the worries of the next day fell away as Sheppard only concentrated on the moment that was before him.

Eventually, he could feel Teyla begin to regain control of her breathing, the racking sobs dissipating into shallow, quick breaths. She pulled away slightly to wipe away the remaining trails of tears that stained her face, and he gave her a light, sympathetic smile. "Are you going to be okay?"

"Perhaps. The Wraith have always been a part of my life…and I may have to share my dreams with them as well." Sheppard suddenly saw her take in their close proximity to each other as though noticing for the first time. She delicately pulled away and rose with a resigned sigh. "I believe it would be best if I try to rest."

Sheppard nodded understandingly and stood. "Yeah, me too. Could I walk you back to your quarters, though?"

She gave him a smile. "I would…appreciate your company, Colonel."

They made there way through the dark corridors, silently allowing themselves to enjoy the presence of the other but refusing to say anything that would ruin the moment. When they reached her quarters, Teyla turned to Sheppard, the beautiful, understanding look that he recognized having returned to her face.

"Thank you for staying with me. I…I would be happy to have your help in this matter."

"You've got it. Call me whenever you need to, no matter what the time is. Deal?" he asked, playfully sticking out his hand.

A small smile crept onto her lips. "Deal." Teyla carefully took his hand and shook it. She hesitated for a moment then, without letting go of his hand, kissed him gently on the cheek.

"Thank you," she said softly. "Goodnight."

"Goodnight." He released her hand and watched her disappear into her quarters, the door sliding shut behind her. Sheppard started down the hall to his own room, his thoughts tumbling rapidly through his head. He had lost Ford…but he seemed to have found Teyla. Life seemed to have given him an opportunity, and he wasn't going to waste it.

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Glad I got that plot bunny out of my system. This particular bunny had rabies, and liked to bite me and throw carrots and coconuts at me until I let him out…so now he's running around the big open field of cyberspace, and he's happy as a clam. But, he's already told me that he will give snuggles and hugs to those who write reviews. He can be a nice bunny when he wants to, so how about writing me a few words?


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